Nox Dathe, Nightatdeath
by sosoguillemot
Summary: There are two things in my life that drive me forward; Games and Self-harm. The former because I can dream, and the latter because it gives me control. But that isn't being alive. And maybe that Windsor guy can help me out with that. This is not a Fruits Basket Fan Fiction but I didn't know where to put it and my Fruits Basket OC is in it...
1. Introduction

Loneliness.

Loneliness and the endless silence of the night.

No.

Sweet silence of the night. Clear like crystal. Beautiful like the last shades of dusk.

I would give anything to turn back Time. Everything. Maybe greed was a flaw, but I believe love was a weakness. It always was.

And bonding always had to hurt.

Not hurt like a knife parting your skin would. Neither like the tender bite of a cold razor on your flesh. But hurt like a violent hungry fire that ate away all your soul viciously. Like a demon from your worst nightmare. It hurt like a harpy was gnawing at your heart, shredding you alive, stomping on your very being.

It hurt in a bad way. In a pain filled way.

Why hurt so badly when the soothing caress of a silver friend could sever the last fragile palpitation of a broken soul? Why hurt this painfully when sweet oblivion could take it all away into an endless sleep and wash over you the veil of eternity?

Why live when you could die?

These thoughts must have been shared by those who were there before me, standing above the calm water of a late night's bridge. But the water was treacherous. Under the seemingly calm surface laid a network of rapid currents, hurling tides and shredding rocks. Under the seemingly calm water laid the key to eternal rest.

It would be so easy. Just letting go of the railing and saying goodbye, like so many had done before me. My left foot left the concrete. The rough, painfully real tarmac hurt my bare sole with its cold bite.

In less than a second, I would be free.


	2. Chapter 1

I swear, who ever invented that torture device call an alarm clock is going to get it. It was Tuesday morning, second day in from the week end and 7:45am. And I was NOT getting up.

I didn't really have a choice though, and grudgingly I got my ever so warm body out of bed. That was one of the hardest day-to-day decisions I have ever been confronted to, ever since I was... 3?

The girl in the mirror looked back at me. She had black hair, dyed of course, which was trimmed to a medium length, aka just reaching my boobs, into what people call an 'emo' cut. I swear some of them need to get lives. Not the emo, the guy who named it like that.

Well, back to my hair... I had silver highlights in it, not that my teachers agreed but they didn't really have a choice. My eyes were black but this time it was entirely natural. They used to sparkle when I was younger, but that little fire had been tamed over years and dimmed to a flickering light. Maybe one day, it will grow again, I mused.

The smell of coffee fresh from the coffee machine came to tackle my senses, and soon I had turned into a zombie with only one thing on its mind; caffeine filled drinks.

I think I made it clear I was a fan of coffee...

However, and sadly, no amount of coffee was enough to compensate for the fact I had school today and it is more than unwillingly that I slipped a suit on. After pulling a brush through my hair, tying it up into a ponytail and brushing my teeth –coffee stains were the worst looking things on a man – I grabbed my planner from the top of my homework and searched for the timetable inside. Double further maths, double economics and double physics. With games in the afternoon. What a joy. Sense the sarcasm.

As it was last week since I had had economics, I had to search around my office a little before I found my notebook. Finally grabbing it from behind the trashcan, next to the little bonsai that had kept me company for the past three years, I put it on my desk, next to the planner. Luckily, I did not waste anymore time as the textbook was nicely waiting on the shelf to that effect.

As I bent down to grab my bag from the floor, the phone in my pocket vibrated and I pulled my old cell phone out. I had a text from my network about a new deal that I wasn't interested in. Dropping the source of annoyance back into my pocket, I hoisted the bag onto my chair and took out the books from yesterday. Once the books were out of the bag, the chair went up five centimetres with a relieved squeak.

Now, I could have given you the formula I found to calculate the weight of my bag depending on the day of the week, but I was told that these numbers were to be kept confidential otherwise the child service might have to be involved. Maybe I should just ignore the fact that my bag did sometimes weight half of my own weight and carry on with the story, what would you think? Nice? Okay...

Once my chair had finished complaining, I stuffed into the black messenger bag my books and, lifting the thing over my head, made my way into the living room. Checking around to make sure all windows were closed I grabbed a scarf from the hallway of the flat and made my way out. Locking the door as I went.

Maybe today would be better than yesterday?

What was that expression that I really liked? You know, the one that really described my mood at the time I left the block of flats? Oh yeah, I remember. Wishful thinking.

Well, that was what I was doing as I passed through the streets of the town. Wishful thinking.

My maths teacher had always been one of my favourite teachers, for a reason I am not aware of. Maybe because he used to be my house master, when I was a boarder, or maybe simply because him and I had a similar temper. I didn't really mind at the time, and all that mattered was that I had good grades in my A levels. That was what I was here for, after all.

The curving lines, complex numbers and signs swirled through my head as I packed up from further maths and took my economics books out. There two lessons were taught in the same classroom, for some reason.

To be honest, I have to admit that I don't remember much from what I was taught that day. Or any other. No. The only thing my mind seemed to register at the time was that poster on the north wall of the room, "making grocery barrels of fun!" was typed under the drawing of a smiling woman holding a basket of one dollar bank notes. "Inflation", had my teacher hand written above it. I had always wondered why it was funny, but never found out. Weird the things your mind registers.

Economics was split in half by break. It had never been my favourite time of the school day, unlike with every other student, because I usually spent it alone. I had nothing against being alone; it is just that sometimes it can get very lonely.

Luckily, break was only twenty minutes long and was soon over. Making my way back inside one of the many buildings, I held my head low. Even though I had survived break, it didn't mean I liked it.

Despite economics and physics being somewhat long but interesting, I was not in a hurry to go to lunch. I hated the lunch hall, crowded with people and noise. I much preferred the quietness of the outside and the swift breeze that blew in my face, this early in march. I walked aimlessly about for a while, appreciating merely the sun stroking my skin. Until the end of last school year, I had been too young to live on my own and was a boarder. I had fallen into the habit of not eating much lunch, as to keep awake during the afternoon and not fall asleep. With time, I had started to eat very little food, until I didn't need lunch at all and could go through the day without lunch or any form of snack. I enjoyed not being dependant on my eating habits and often found myself more filled by spending my time walking than a lunch could have provided.

Coming back to Main School Yard, a cheesy name but that was adequate, I quickly glanced around. Groups of people were talking, seemingly entertaining themselves. I made my way towards the only group still in uniform, as all the others had sport kits on. My bag with my swimming staff bumping against my leg with every step, I finally reached a bench a few paces behind the group. Sitting myself in the only streak of sunshine, I closed my eyes and let the shy rays of happiness slide over my skin.

Trying to warm up a frozen heart.

Footsteps shook me out of my daydream. Opening my eyes, I noticed my swimming teacher walking toward us. My grip on my bag tightened. Here we go for another hellish session.

As she was taking roll call, I let my mind wander.

_Alexander Bane_

Quarterback on the football team

_Hannah Carlsbin_

Nice girl.

_Emily Charling_

Never talked to her

_Vladimir Danesky_

mmm... wasn't he the kid with glasses? Nah, the kid with glasses had a name starting with A... Albinez? Albanez? Something like that. Danesky wasn't too bad. A bit curious at time but an overall nice guy.

_Nox Dathe?_

I could hear giggles. Probably this wasn't the first time the teacher called my name and it made these idiotic gooses laugh. I lifted my hand up and the teacher marked me present onto her register with a small huff of annoyance.

_Jeremy Green_

That one... he was a total player. He must have gone out with almost all girls in the upper sixth and lower sixth together, leaving almost as many broken hearts in his path. I really didn't like him. Luckily, he hadn't tried to get in my pants yet, but come on, who would? I was a loner and didn't speak much to others. The longest sentence I must have said to him was "who are you?"...

I must have been in my world not to hear the other names until it reached the last of the list.

_Dom Windsor_

I closed my eyes. God, that guy was hot. He was a tall, lanky blonde with bluish green eyes. One year above me, the total amount of words we must have exchanged had to be equal to ten. The basic "Hello"s times ten. I heard a vague yes from him –what a sexy voice! –and followed the pack of swimmers up to the swimming pool.


	3. Chapter 2

I hated swimming. The only reason I did it was because I couldn't do any other sport, due to an accident I had when I was younger. A car had run over my foot and my ankle had suffered a bit. It then led on for me to have a stroke of twisting and spraining it which could only be stopped by not doing exercise and wearing supportive shoes. Swimming had been advised by my GP as a good way to regain strength in the muscles. I didn't mind the swimming, but I hated to lesson aspect to it. I felt naked in my swimming costume and hated being bossed around by a teacher who just sat in a chair shouting that until we don't feel pain we haven't exercised properly.

The part I however hated the most was getting changed. Every Tuesday and Thursday, the fear of someone finding out had been gnawing at my stomach, aching for me to run away to my shiny friends. And my personal hell was just where I was heading right now; the changing rooms.

I followed suit to the other 7 girls and entered the room. Benches lined the walls, with hooks above them. The shower had been built into the wall, while the toilet where the first door on the left. The room made a bent to the left, so that the changing area wasn't able to be seen from the door. Sitting my bag on the bench the furthest away from said door, I started undressing.

"_Nox?" I turned around, startled. Why would anyone want to talk to me?

"_Oh My God!" gasped the girl from earlier. I looked around what was going on?

Noise stopped. Gazes turned to me. Suddenly I understood; I was in underwear. I was in underwear...

I was in underwear!

* * *

The angry red lines that criss-crossed over my stomach were displayed to everyone. And everyone had noticed. I grabbed a towel from behind, pressing it against me in a vain attempt to hide my butchered abdomen. The movements I made must have broken the stillness that had dawned upon the girls because soon, one accusingly said.

"_you are an emo cutter." It was only a whisper, as if the girl that had viciously accused me of it couldn't even believe it herself, but it was enough to set all the other girls back on track.

"_get out! We don't want you in there!"

Someone had grabbed my swimming stuff, whilst I felt my arm being gripped and I was shoved to the door.

"_GET OUT!"

* * *

The door I was just pushed through was not even closed yet, the one from the boys' changing room opened and Porter came out.

Porter's first name was Jacob, but I had the habit of calling every one by their last name. It helped me keep a distance between them and me, as well as it was some kind of mark of respect toward them. Porter was also one year older than me and I had exchanged with him more than ten words, since both of us were scholars we had to at one point. I quite liked Porter. He wasn't sappily nice, neither was he rude. He was self-confident and often got on my nerves for it, but he was genuinely nice. One could say I got on well with him. I respected and liked him enough for me to worry a tiny bit about him, and it is true that at one point during my schooling I had been scared he was like me a cutter. Luckily, I had mistaken his self-confidence for a comedy.

He extended a hand to help hoist me up, which I took. His hand was warm and big, which was always something I liked about boys. They never seemed to be cold. Thanking his kind act with a nod, I grabbed my stuff from the floor and made my way inside the staff changing room, which I knew to be desert.

Swimming, as predicted, has been a huge pain in the ass. I had done lengths on my own, trying to keep away from the dirty looks the girls shot my way. I was genuinely surprised none of them had mentioned it to a teacher, even though I knew they didn't understand I didn't expect them to be that unaware of the consequences. Once I reached the count of 40 lengths, I got out of the swimming pool with 5mins to spare. Deciding on a quick shower, I made my way to the staff changing room.

* * *

One of the things I always used to look forward to was going home. Going home was almost like holidays, since I could kick my boots off my feet and rest. Sadly, ever since I had moved out of the boarding house, coming home was synonym of loneliness. My parents were with my sisters in France. Back at _home_.

The block of flats I lived in was near my school, for which I am glad. It meant I didn't have to walk too long to get there and that I could sleep longer. The way back was equally short and I loved my flat. It was painted in the beige colours, with my room in black, beige and green. I had black details, such as plinth, on the walls. The lower halves of the flat's walls were green while the top 2/3 were beige. My furniture was either black or white. I had a small kitchen which lead into a decent sized living room, a small office, a hallway, a bathroom and a bedroom.

It got very lonely at times.

Tonight, I wasn't hungry enough –like every other night – to eat a proper meal so I settled for a bowl of soup. Once my nice brick soup was finished, only a shadow of the one my mum cooks, and all the homework I had for the next day was gone and checked, I allowed myself a pause.

It was a mistake, had been one and would be one I would make long still.

I sat down on the couch, a glass of water in my hand and let my train of thought vagabond in my mind. I remembered.

Remembered the cool certainty of pain, the flashes of silver amongst all the crimson. I remembered the way it felt, digging in my flesh, asking for more. I remember the slow, delicate feeling of oblivion it brought to me when I closed my eyes. I remembered the burning sensation it left, the bite I could feel slithering in. Doubt flashing in my mind for a second.

And then relief.

Sweet, blissful relief that took, away all doubt, all fear, all pain. That took away everything. Relief, the craving, the need for it. It pushed me to do it again, grab my small shining friend and let it sing to me a sweet lullaby. The sweet lullaby of oblivion. The calm promise of a second of peace. The craving for stillness. The need to drown in it, sink and never have to get up again. Relief. The little crimson tears running down my body.

There will be beauty from pain.


	4. Chapter 3

That annoying beeping which marked the rising of a new day did not fail today either to wake me up. I was starting to regret buying it. Like yesterday, the smell of coffee was swirling through the flat and I couldn't help but bless the one who had invented timers on coffee machines. I had to thank him. That person had made it worth getting up in the morning.

Groaning, I sat up in my bed. Gingerly, I threw my foot over the edge of the bed, letting the other one follow suit. Once sitting, I avoided to look at the mirror in front of me –someone must have thought it was Halloween early – and got up from my ever so warm and comfy bed.

Curse school!

As soon as this thought crossed my mind, memories of the day before reached me and I looked down at my slippers. Great. Just what I needed. The school to know I self-harm. Idiotic bastards. Judgmental at it! And even better, I had chemistry first two periods. Whoo! Go me! Chemistry with the U6 meant sitting behind Windsor, whom would have known –please let me be wrong –that I self harm.

* * *

When I entered school ground, I was expecting whispers and dirty looks. I got neither. Sure, the girls were whispering, and some were looking at me like they would love to snap my head from my body, but no boy was laughing or mocking me. This, is a way, reassured me. Maybe, the girls hadn't gossiped about it. Maybe no one else had to know.

I entered chemistry with more confidence than when I came to school this morning. It sadly all crumpled to nothing when, as I entered, one of the girls from the day previous said sarcastically:

"_look! The little emo has arrived!"

I froze. A quick glance to my right showed me that most of the people had their attention on something else, even though at the back Windsor was watching. So was the teacher.

"_did you go back home crying? Why don't you do us a favour? Go cut and cut a bit too deep, will you?"

I took a step toward the door. Another one. Then turned around and twisted the doorknob.

"_everybody sit down!" the teacher said. Sighting, I made my way to my desk.

The lesson was interesting, don't get me wrong, but for some reason I couldn't concentrate. I could feel eyes resting on me, as it at any second I would get a blade and start slashing at my skin. Or burst. I focused on the back of Windsor's head and inhaled, exhaled. I was going to keep calm.

I had two periods for that.

* * *

I was the only one to take geography as a side subject, and therefore it was one of the few subjects in which I could talk, express myself and not fear to be laughed at. After that was break, lonely as usual. I sat in the staircase leading to the upper gallery of the School Hall. I could hear everyone from where I was. Gossip drifted toward me as I sighted. When would the girls learn to leave it alone? Sure it was funny to gossip, from time to time, but how could they do it all the time? Girls were so mean toward one another, talking behind backs and the likes. Plus, they took everything personally and had a tendency to twist words –I admit, I did that a lot. I just... didn't mention it to my interlocutor – but the worst, the thing I hated most was the way they wouldn't even question what was being said. They believed every single word coming out of their mouth.

In such way, the school had learnt that Jennifer Hopt had had sex with the whole of the removes (she was a L6) and that Bradley Kings, a guy on the soccer team ever since he was little, had broken a guys nose by hitting him on purpose with his knee. That was stupid, the boy wouldn't hurt a fly.

Anyways, after break I had history which was another one of my side subjects. I had the class with two other boys, so it wasn't bitchy like if we were three girls. However, before that I had double biology, a subject that almost half of the L6 –my year –followed. Both went by uneventfully, despite some bitching in biology and lunch time drew near. I only had a few minutes to go when I felt something hit the back of my head. A piece of paper fell on my desk. I didn't bother opening it and looked at who had sent it. A girl from yesterday. Chucking the crumpled paper into the bin, I turned back to my enzymes after a glance at the clock.

After double Latin and double business studies, school was finally over. I wasn't excited, as per usual, to go back home, but today was an exception. Today, today I couldn't wait to be out. The stares of the seven girls, the whispers, the laughs. I felt watched, trapped, cornered. I felt judged, hated. And I didn't like it. Not one bit.

* * *

The quiet of my flat was a welcome relief from the noise of the street. I dropped by bag to the floor, deciding that since I only had two days to go till week end, I'd survive the whole ordeal. Or not.

I grabbed my shiny friend.

Emotion overflowed, tears bled.

Silent screams, hellish pleasure.

Cold on warm.

Silver on porcelain

Razor on skin.

* * *

The worst kind of stories had always been, I my opinion, the one where the girl and the boy fall in love in the end. it was always the same routine; girl loves boy. Girl does something or gets something done that makes her special, boy falls in love with girl. Even though the boy had never talked to her before. And then we learn that they had 'loved each other at first sight' and that the girl had haunted the boy's dreams ever since he first saw her.

I loathe these films.

In real life, it never happens. The girl doesn't get the boy, they don't love each other happily ever after and all that is left in the end is bitterness.

Fucking broken dreams.

Wishful thinking.

Pain.

* * *

_I need you to know I'm not though the night_

_Some days I'm still fighting to walk t'wards the light_

_I need you to know that we'll be okay_

_Together we can make it through another day._

* * *

Disclaimer: lyrics in italics belong to SuperChick. the song is Courage.


	5. Chapter 4

I will spare you my waking up routine, simply because I cannot bear to even think about going through it again. The painfully high pitched bells, the bad bed hair... the breath... the only good thing in the morning-filled world is coffee.

Oh, and the fact that first lesson is chemistry and that I get to stare at him for a whole two periods. That's epic as well.

Is it weird that I can tell if he used a different hair gel? Because I am pretty sure his hair isn't at the same angle as it usually is... maybe I am just going mad.

Barrels of fun... grocery... how on earth is this funny?!

* * *

And doom.

Doom's day, please enjoy.

Well, I am overdramatic, but it feels like it...

But seriously, why should I feel thrilled at the idea of going swimming? There is nothing good in that. I'd have to face the girls, or just plainly hide in the staff changing room and then be all lonely again. Plus, today is Thursday, so it is going to be boring as hell as out teacher is going to make us do continuous swimming. Did I already mention it? I HATE swimming.

So you know, a swimming lesson is meant to go smoothly, everybody getting on and stuff? Well no. Not here. So I was in the changing room, getting changed –that is what most people do in there, some however fuck –and then I noticed IT. Now, you might wonder what IT is. Well it is the fucking cut that thought 'yeah, let's go down her inner thigh so that everyone can see me'. So I just pray no one will notice my cut. Yeah. It s like praying for the elephant wearing a pink tutu to go unnoticed in a crowd. Impossible.

Well actually, that is incredibly selfish of me. Because not everyone will be inspecting my thighs. So actually, since no one even looks at me, no one will see a thing. Okay, all cool. Panic attack avoided. Not for long, but so far yeah.

I hope.

Oh wait.

Wishful thinking.

I don't know if he noticed. I don't know if they noticed. Do I care? No. Should i? Probably. Maybe. But I don't want to. I don't want to care, I don't want to hurt. I don't want to cry anymore. I want to be free. Finally.

* * *

There is one thing in my life I love to do, apart from cutting. It's that one thing that kept me going up on week end, that one thing that really makes it worth getting up. It's gaming.

Gaming isn't just something I love. It is my only escape, my ticket for a better world. It is the only thing I can do right. The only moment I can forget I am not okay. If I don't game, it's like not getting my fix. I just have to. My second addiction.

Fiction.

It was what I was doing that day when I got back from school. Games. The day had been horrific, with more paper being thrown during biology. And then, as I turned on my computers I saw that research motor I had set up biped. I had programmed it to go into personal files and search for anyone I knew. I had given it a few names –the list from the school's email system –and every time I was on both it would update. Like now. Clicking on the window, it popped open with four gamers. Windsor, a guy in removes, Harcog, and one that was in prep school. Clicking onto Windsor's pseudonym, I invited him into a game.

To my surprise, five minutes later he replied to my request and joined. Using my two computers, I started the game playing as two nations. I wanted to see how he would react virtually to be able to map him better mentally.

* * *

After two hours of playing, we had to pause for the time being. I had the upper hand, thanks to my double activity. Some might call it cheating... I think it is merely using my abilities to the best. You can imagine my surprise when a chat window pops up on steam.

_Domwindsor_: hey. 

_Nightatdeath: hello. How r u?_

_Domwindsor_: good thx. U?

___Nightatdeath_: could b better. U ve got some skills.

_Domwindsor_: so do you. And a good English. where r u from?

_Nightatdeath: I am French but live in England._

_Domwindsor_: epic! I'm English. From England.

_Nightatdeath: yeah, I know._

_Domwindsor_: how comes?

_Nightatdeath: I know you._

_Domwindsor_: from?

_Nightatdeath: school_

_Domwindsor_: what s your name?

_Nightatdeath: that s for me to know and you to find out :p_

_Domwindsor_: girl or boy?

_Nightatdeath: girl._

_Domwindsor_: ... my year?

_Nightatdeath: nope._

_Domwindsor_: erm... L6?

_Nightatdeath: maybe..._

_Domwindsor_: how do I know you?

_Nightatdeath: that'll be giving it away._

_Domwindsor_: did I see you today?

_Nightatdeath: twice._

_Domwindsor_: Hayley?

_Nightatdeath: nope. :p_

_Domwindsor_: Becks?

_Nightatdeath: neither_

_Domwindsor_: this is getting embarrassing... you are not the emo girl are you?

_Nightatdeath: ouch. The stung asshole._

_Domwindsor_: really?! What's your name?

_Nightatdeath went offline._

_Domwindsor_: hey! 

_Nightatdeath is online._

_Nightatdeath: what?_

___Domwindsor_: what's your name?

_Nightatdeath: Nox. Now goodbye._

_ Domwindsor: bye._

_Nightatdeath went offline._

_Domwindsor_ went offline.

* * *

That night, I remember feeling low. Despair and loneliness were keeping me company as I pondered on his words. Was I really that unlikable? Did people really feel as if I was a bothering 'emo' person? Did no one see me for what I am? Who I am?

Could no one hear my cries for help?


	6. Chapter 5

The strident alarm went crashing against the wall on Friday. I would have the whole week end to buy a new one. Anyways, after my legendary cup of coffee –I can still smell the aroma –and packing my more than heavy bag, I got ready for another day of school, this time with the knowledge that Windsor boy didn't think very highly of me. And to be honest it didn't drive me forward...

* * *

Cicerone, the Roman 'author' was one of my favourite texts to translate. The words were fluid, flowing with grace and power of the tongue of the interlocutor. Even after translation, it still kept a certain charm to it that I believe only a genius of words would have given. Maybe I just like Cicerone a tad too much. But I enjoyed my first two lessons; Latin.

* * *

Dates, events, battles, treaties, boundaries, death. The human mind has shown through history to be far more complex and individualist than I would have thought. Dates like 11th September, 9/11 for some. Events like the French revolution. Battles like the battle of the Somme. Treaties like the treaty of Maastricht. Boundaries like the ever changing colonies. Death like all the lives lost stupidly by an overconfident general or dictator.

* * *

Geography. Calm before the storm, peace in a small meadow. Study of the earth. Study of its strength and weaknesses, of its presents and poisons. Study of us, a little as well. How we shape it, how we kill it, how we save it. Funny just how much we depend on it. It is after all only dirt under my feet. But so much more.

* * *

Asymptotes, graphs of higher power, algebraic proofs all swirling and twisting in front of my eyes. A sequence of letters that do not have a meaning. Yet. Like a puzzle you put together. Like a portrait you paint. The final picture, the final curve, the final form will be so pure. Too pure.

* * *

Today, I chose to walk by the river. The downtown area isn't this well known because at night time it gets a bit dodgy –like any other suburb really –but during day time it was the best place to see the boats come in and out of the harbour, the water slide in the shimmering sun. Maybe I was like one of these crimson leaves, carried away by the currents. Maybe I wasn't. Who knows? But more important. Who cares?

* * *

Business studies was one subject of a kind. It wasn't quite English, wasn't quite maths. A bit like economics, it was very peculiar. Our teacher, a short lady in her forties was also peculiar. Short brownish ginger hair held back in a ponytail by a pink hair band, colourful jumpers with greens and pinks slamming together to form a dancing swan-like grace, blue jeans that were new and bright, brown leather cow boy boots. A odd person to me. Lively, funny, happy. She was different from everything I saw. Different to every other person I crossed. Maybe it was the subject. After all, business studies was one of a kind.

* * *

To be entirely honest, I was surprised when I felt a hand touch my shoulder. I wasn't expecting anyone to really talk to me since my chances had –apparently –been blown with Windsor. So when I turned around, I was even more startled to notice said person looking at me from the top of his 1m69. Okay. Next to him I was short. But that doesn't mean he can boss me around! Raising a questioning brow at him –the one that said "what the fuck do you want now?" –I waited for him to start talking.

"_sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to be offensive."

"_no problem. I over reacted anyways." A nod on his side made me smile a bit.

"_you and Mme Clarke, our French teacher, are very alike in apologies. She always does that as well."

"_I guess it's a culture thing then." What was I doing?! I was talking to him like I knew him. Hey! Nox! Remember the 'bonding always hurt'? yeah? Well what on earth are you up to?!

"_where did you learn to play like that?"

"_with time. And you? You have some serious skills at the game."

"_habit I guess. Erm... could we carry on the game at the week end then?"

"_yeah sure. Any preference as to when?"

"_erm... Sunday? Anytime Sunday?"

"_sure." The teacher motioned us in. "see you then."

"_bye!"

Atoms and bonding were interesting. But hey, my teacher did say that love was chemistry as well, so I though well... why not study up that one a bit? And believe me, I spent two periods analysing my feelings. And it wasn't pretty. Not at all. Next time, I'll just keep to the atom chemistry. Don't really want to go down that route again. It is a tad too dark for school time. Because, even though they suspect I cut, they don't have any proof of it. Not everyone knows I do. So I should just as well keep the facade up and wait. Wait. It seems like I spent my life waiting. Waiting for the end of school, waiting for sleep to overtake me, waiting for the night. THE night. The on I'll finally over cut, over dose, over everything. The one I will finally have the guts to step over the line.

* * *

My flat's emptiness was never a huge problem. Living on my own meant that I could do whatever I wanted, eat when I felt like it and what I wished to eat. Having a boyfriend with me, or a roommate meant that I would have to eat properly and regularly. Meant that I would have to lock the room when I cut. Meant that I would have to keep secret certain things. I didn't want to do that and living on my own offered to me that freedom. I could do what I wanted; no one was here to object.

Gaming was one of them. I didn't have a sappy boyfriend that would argue I loved my computer more than him. There, online I could be whoever I wanted, live a life of thrill and danger. But above all, I could make the choices I couldn't make in real life. I could go into a crowd of boys and not suffocate with fear. I could dance in a club and not feel exposed. I could eat and not feel fat. I could not cut and feel fine. In games, I was someone else, someone stronger. Someone I wanted to be.

Someone that wasn't me.

* * *

Windsor was connected tonight. Again. I liked playing games with him since he had a good strategy and did really put up a challenge. I had to admit that yesterday I had feared he would not play again, deciding I wasn't worth the trouble. At least, I know one person in my life actually acknowledges me for something. Or maybe he doesn't. Who knows? I could be the only one he could play with, or he could play with me only because I had the upper hand. Who knows if he actually wanted to? Maybe he was just trying to finish the games as soon as possible so he could ignore me without being rude. Maybe he didn't care who he was playing with as long as he was playing.

But I did. I did care that it was him on the other side. I did care I was playing against him. I did care because I liked him. A lot.

* * *

That was silly, wasn't it? I liked someone I had almost never talked to. I liked someone who seemed to think very little of me. I liked someone who very obviously didn't like me back. So why? Why did I carry on liking him? It might have been so that I had a reason to get up in the morning, or that I needed to think, even if it was only in my mind, that somewhere someone did like me. Or maybe I was just selfish, thinking I could be someone's everything. He was surely merely being a boy and playing without any afterthought. I was being ridiculous.

But I was hoping anyways.

* * *

The following morning was weekend, for which I am forever grateful. Weekend meant no school, no worries, no homework, no dirty looks. But above all, weekend meant games. gaming all I could until I would pass out. And cutting. To ease the pain of being lonely. But gaming. Gaming until my eyes cried, gaming until my head throbbed. Because there was nothing else to do.

Saturday was spent wishing it would go by quicker. Between slashes of red and flashes of light I would just lay there, thinking on how much I would love to just go to sleep. Go to sleep and never wake up. Go to sleep and never again feel the cold biting my skin, the fire inside me, the numbing pain of a blade, the painful reminders I was alive. Maybe I could end it all today. Who would care? I could simply walk out of the door, down the stairs and walk alongside the river. There, after less than a kilometre would be a bridge. I would just have to step over the railing and say goodbye. I could be free. I could fly.

Yeah. For a moment, I would fly.

I didn't do it though. I didn't feel like the time was right. Maybe I could still go on. Maybe I still had things to live for. Oh boy. I was right then.

* * *

Sunday was a pretty epic day in my calendar. It was the day I would finally be able to game against Windsor again, and thus it means I could get to know him a bit better. Turning on my computers, I felt a pang of deception tug at me heart when I noticed he wasn't online. That was okay though, he would be later one. I hoped.

It wasn't until four in the afternoon, after a lot of worrying, doubting and about 40 brand new angry lines of fire that finally, he came online. A sigh I didn't know I had been holding left my lips. He didn't forget.

For some reason, it meant the world to me.

We were soon battling, my angsty thoughts long forgotten. A chat window popped open. Maybe, I thought, just maybe, he isn't playing just to play. Maybe he was, like I was doing, just trying to get to know me.

Maybe. But that was enough to make me smile.

Maybe I wasn't totally alone.

* * *

The night was sweeping into the room by the open widow above my bed. The cold air trickling in, slowly but surely waking me up. A small smile smeared onto my tired face. Fatigue sneaking into my core, I got up from the chair a tomorrow held close to my heart. A small spark of happiness.

* * *

_Domwindsor_: can we meet after school tomorrow? I need help with French. (not really, but I wanna know how you won :p )

_Nightatdeath: sure. Where?_

_Domwindsor_: somewhere with a computer?

_Nightatdeath: home?_

___Domwindsor_ : sounds good.

_Nightatdeath: smooth. C ya then?_

___Domwindsor_ : yep. See you 2moz.


	7. Chapter 6

Have I ever mentioned just how much I hate mornings? Because, if I haven't, I'll have you know they suck immensely. Even worse are the Monday mornings. Monday mornings are just plain depressive... they mark a new five days of plain torture. This Monday morning did not break the rule and I woke up 30mins late. Hurryingly pulling my shoes on after getting dressed, I decided that my hair looked okay. I had forgotten to set the coffee machine yesterday so there was no delicious brewage. I didn't have the time anyways... that's one of the things that really do get on my nerves: not having my coffee in the mornings. Makes me want to kill someone...

* * *

And it is with these heavenly thoughts in mind that I reached hell on earth, hum sorry, I meant, school. As soon as I stepped in the yard, I could have sworn half of the girls tried killing me with their glares. A few conversations got quieter and I frowned. What was going on? Maybe it was just me being paranoid, but something felt off. I slowly made my way towards my form room.

Very few people were in there since form time hadn't started, but the few conversations that were held stopped when I came in. Almost immediately, I spotted my hymnbook on the floor, pages torn out of it. Sighing I picked it up and looked at the harm done. Nothing that cello tape and time couldn't fix. What however made me frown was the "emo" written across the inside cover in bold red letters. I did not appreciate this. Deciding not to lose my –oh so precious –time with stupidities, I shrugged, registered with my teacher and went to put my games bag in the changing rooms for tomorrow.

* * *

You know those stories where the girl gets bullied and the boy comes to the rescue? Yeah, those ones. Well, mine isn't like that simply because in real life there is no knight in shining armour to sweep you off your feet and make everything better. This doesn't happen. Plus, who said I was bullied? Bullying wasn't allowed in our school –like any other – and we actually surprisingly well stuck to that rule. Sure there was the odd act of revenge –Had it been revenge? –but generally we were pretty civilized. I say this just to clarify things. Sometimes I make things come across as bleak and sad when they are not bleak or sad. I was very happy at school and I needed you to know that. I doubt I am ever going to say it again anytime soon, but I was happy. Deep down, I wasn't sad in England. Sure life wasn't all flowers and sunshine, but hey: you need rain to make a rainbow.

* * *

Windsor was waiting for me at the gate of the school. I was actually surprised by it, since I half expected him to wait somewhere no one would notice us but he actually waved when he saw me. Maybe he wasn't that bad. I awkwardly waved back, mentally hoping he wasn't waving to the person behind and was relieved when he fell into steps beside me.

"_so, where to?"

* * *

Damn, that boy was hot!

Windsor had been in my flat for a few hours now, getting the hang of playing with two computers and I had to admit he looked more than handsome with his jacked off, tie loosened and hair totally ruffled. Did I say I loved his hair? No? Well, that's done. I love his hair. Oh gosh, I sounded totally girlish... a bip came from the computer he had logged on as me and I leaned over his shoulder. I saw a list of name appear on my screen, and his eyebrow rose when he saw his name.

"_what is this?" he asked in a playful tone.

"_hum... well... I hum hackedintothedatabasetoseeifanyoneIknewplayedCivil izationV."

"_sorry?" he was clearly taking the Mickey out of me and wasn't sorry at all.

"_I hacked into the database to see if anyone I knew played Civ V. This is how I was able to send you a game request." He smiled.

"_soooooooo... who else plays?"

* * *

Dom –yes, I had given up and called him Dom. Yes, not Dominique and not Windsor anymore but Dom –had been scrolling through the surprisingly long list of names and making some notes of names he knew when I noticed the time.

"_oh fuck, it's already 8pm. Shouldn't you call your parents?"

"_oh yeah shit. Erm can I use your home phone please? Mine is out of charge..."

"_yeah sure. Are you eating here or at home?"

"_I'll ask my parents, but I don't want to be a bother."

"_I invited you, idiot." He smiled a bit and picked up the phone, dialling his home number.

Five minutes later, Dom entered the living room/kitchen with a grin on his face.

"_my parents said I could eat here if you were okay with it, but I had to be back by 9 to do some homework..."

"_cool, pasta or fish?"

"_do you really need to ask?"

I laughed simply while putting some water to boil and taking out two sets of plates and cutlery.

"_be useful, set the table?"

* * *

Dinner was nice, and I was glad not to be alone for once. I think Dom was actually surprised at the fact I could make decent food –wait till he tastes my cakes, they are the best! –and looked pleasantly surprised at the first bite of the pasta. Smirking to myself, I ate mine and we put our dishes in –guess! –the dishwasher –no, really?! –. After that, Dom grabbed his bag and walked back to his house, only a couple of streets away.

* * *

I was getting out of the shower, cleaning my new cuts when I notice his phone lying by my computer. Sighing, I grabbed it, plugged it to charge (luckily it fit my charger) and grabbed my home phone. As I thought, his home number was registered in last calls and I pressed the green button.

After the fourth ring, a little boy's voice picked up.

"__hello?"_

"_hello, I am Nox. A friend of Dom." Friend? I guess you could call me like that...

"__darling, who is it? –a friend of Dom momma. –could I talk to him please? –her..." _the little boy –his brother? – must have handed the phone over to the woman because soon, she was the one speaking.

"__hello I am his mother. Dom is under the shower right now."_

"_oh sorry to disturb!"

"__do you want me to tell him you called?"_

"_i just wanted to warn him I had his phone, so that he didn't look for it everywhere and panic."

"__oh thank you calling! I will tell him. Is that it?"_

"_yes sorry to disturb again, and have a nice evening Mrs Windsor."

"__you are not disturbing and thank you, a nice evening to you too. Good bye!"_

The line went dead.

Well, this went well!

* * *

We –Dom and I –more or less agreed to game together every 'T' days –Tuesday and Thursday –and at four Saturday and Sunday. This had resulted in us getting to know each other actually surprisingly well and I had learnt his birthday was on the second of October. He did have a little brother, and I had met his mum the following morning at school –she had driven him there since he was running late – who was a very nice woman. They seemed like a happy family. On my side, I hadn't yet told him I self harmed and wasn't planning on anytime soon. Ever since the girls had rejected me that badly, I was afraid of what he would say. Would he act like them and stop talking? Would I lose the only friend I seemed to have? I didn't know, and to be honest I didn't really want to know. March was only half gone, and I would only break up on the 13th of June , so I still had a long time to tell him.


	8. Chapter 7

Today was Saturday 19th of April. This date may mean nothing to you, but to me it meant a great deal. It had been exactly three years since I started cutting. Three years of scars, three years of sickening blood. Three years and no rest. Three years. 1095 days. More than 1095 scars.

* * *

I was currently gifting my body with new ones when it happened. It, being my hand 'slipping' and embedding itself further into my thigh that it should have. Sectioning the femoral artery. The cut was long and deep, running across the whole length of the thigh and bleeding profusely. As soon as I saw the thigh I knew I didn't stand I chance.

Maybe I had wanted this. Maybe subconsciously I had been dreaming of it. But I know that right at that instant, the thought that crossed my mind was 'Dom'. And it was the last thing that crossed my mind.

I never really knew who called the ambulance, and how they knew I needed one, but I don't think it really matters anymore. All that matters is that someone did it, because it was worth it. Definitely.

* * *

Whilst I was... momentarily unable to be reached, Dom had been connecting himself to the server. I pieced that up from the missed call I had on Skype and the one both my mobile and home phone displayed. He also apparently had rung the bell to my door. He told me that and even said he didn't actually mean to go by my block of flat, but he was taking a stroll and saw light in the living room and thought he might as well try, but I didn't answer. I think it shocked him a bit that he had rung the bell to my door, that he had been so close to me as I was losing my blood and he hadn't noticed. Actually, I still think he held himself slightly guilty for that. I don't understand why though. It was my choice. My mistake. But let me take things in the right order...

* * *

I woke up to a beeping sound on Monday. Yes, ANOTHER beeping sound. I swear there are too many in this world. Well anyways, that one I wasn't used to, so I wondered where it came from and when I opened my eyes well... I actually understood where it originated and I was more than shocked.

The walls were white, the bed sheets were white, the door was white, everything was white apart from the small chair and the TV. I was, -you guessed it – in the hospital. I couldn't quite understand what I was doing there yet, and I wasn't sure I really wanted to know what was going on, but I was really starting to get uncomfortable and I wanted to get up to a sitting position. My bed did –luckily – not have the little remote thing so I pulled on my arms and dragged my upper body against the wall. Burning pain shot through my thigh.

Oh.

That happened.

* * *

Have you ever been in hospital? If yes, then you'll know it is one of the most boring places ever. You have nothing to do, and TV is always just a bunch of crap. So hospital gave me time to think. And that wasn't what I needed. It gave me time to ponder and wonder over and over again on things. Why did I cut that deep? What is wrong with me? what will Dom do when he learns I have attempted suicide? How... how will he react?

That one haunted me the most. How will he react? Will he stay the same? Will he become protective? Or will he shun me, hate me, and laugh at me? What will he do? What?

Out of all the scenarios in my head, there had been one I had forgotten and that one the one that was playing right now. It always went like this though didn't it? It was always the one you weren't prepared for, the one you weren't sure of that occurred. Well in my case, Dom came to the hospital. I really wasn't expecting him here. But it did make me feel fuzzy to see his handsome face through the crack of my door and the small smile on it as he noticed I was awake. He strode in –without knocking like always –and handed over an orange book to me. I smiled. I wanted to laugh, hug him or something but I just smiled. What else would I do? not sensing my small moment of doubt, or sensing but ignoring it, Dom sat down on the chair beside my bed and went on about telling me about school, Civilization V and other things.

I let him do most of the conversation, only asking one or two questions when the flow of words was slowing down. It made me happy to hear him, and know someone had bothered coming. In fact, it made me even happier it was him who did but... I wasn't ready to admit that quite yet.

Dom left the hospital about two hours later. He left some of his sunshine and happiness in my room, even though I soon felt lonely again. I grabbed the chemistry book from the table –white – that sat on my left and opened it. A small folded paper fell out. Three words.

_Get well soon._

A smile.

* * *

I was somewhat waiting for him, and he did come at the same time the next day. This time I smiled when he entered the room, and I did give him a hug. I guess I was in a happy mood. Anyways, Dom handed me over more prep, for which he got a smile –hospitals do that kind of weird things to you – and I gave him back my chemistry. He then sat down by my bed again and told me all about his day. I wanted this instant to never end, I wanted him to stay forever. But of course, he had a life to go back to, a family waiting for him. And in that moment, I had never felt more alone than when his mum poked her head around the door, smiled at seeing us engrossed in our conversation and told Dom they had to be quick because she wasn't parked properly. I think she saw the sadness of my face when he packed his things up, because they left with the promise they would come back.

I will hold them to it.

* * *

I had the immense pleasure to see Dom come back on Wednesday with my most prized possessions; my phone and my laptop. Those three wonderful items –I had razor blade tapped inside my phone –were the ones I had missed the most, and even though cutting wasn't an option in a hospital, it always made me feel better to have my blade with me. I however doubt Dom knew that, and I think he wasn't aware of the things he had brought me. So, handing me over my babies he opened his bag, took my prep which he replaced by new ones and took his laptop out. A smile broke on my face. He was in for a game he wouldn't forget.

* * *

He did come back every single evening, which made me very happy but I always wondered how he found the time to do that. Between prep, family and games I was not sure where I fitted. I was just glad I did, to be honest. Sometimes, I would wonder why he did this, why he bothered coming. I thought that maybe he did it because he knew no one else would, or I even caught myself dreaming he did it because he wanted to but no one would ever do that. I am damaged, broken goods. No one wants them, no one needs them. No one needs me.

* * *

Apparently, Dom came back when I was asleep on Saturday. I had been trying to walk about and my thigh hadn't been very cooperative, so I was feeling more than knackered and despite my best attempts to stay awake I had fallen into slumber. According to a nurse, Dom had come in, took my prep and sat down on a chair for a little while. Maybe coming to see me was a way for him to escape his family. That had been my best hypothesis as to why he would come and stay even if I wasn't awake, but really, deep down I knew it wasn't it. I didn't know, but I felt it. More like I was wishing for it so hard I couldn't bear to let it go. Maybe, maybe, he was here because he did love me.

* * *

Sunday was a great day, and yet one of the worst. Dom came on Sunday, with a smile on his face. He told me of what his little brother and him had been doing the previous day, and of what kind of mischief they were now in. It did make me laugh, and I can say he was pleased with himself. He left after an hour, giving me a hug and promising to be back the following day with more prep. This is actually when this started to go downhill and at the same time incredibly well.

I was getting bored, since Dom's visits were the only things in my days I could look forwards, so I opened my laptop and got myself ready for a good game. My list of name popped up as always, and I was pleasantly surprised to see a game request from Dom appear soon after I was connected. I –of course –accepted it.

Maybe, I shouldn't have changed the way I acted and Dom wouldn't have worried. Or maybe, he would have been worried anyways. But all I know is that when I entered the game as an autocracy, a dictatorship and took over the world brutally and without a care for my happiness levels, Dom did get worried. I should maybe have acted as I felt when I was with him, rather than normal. Maybe it would have prevented this, and all the pain that followed. Maybe that pain was a good thing because it drove me forward for a time. Or maybe I am just over thinking things again and should just come back to earth, because a worried looking Dom was coming through my door for the second time today. I cocked my head to the side, puzzled.

"_did you forget anything?"

No reply. Rather, he came towards me and sat on the bed next to me instead of on the chair. Alarms bells rang in my head.

"_Nox, I didn't ask you, but why?"

Oh. That one. That question I had –foolishly –hoped to avoid.

"_I... don't really know. It just kinda happened." I hated to see him like this. His normally bright smile wasn't there, his hair was falling in front of his face and he looked disheartened. Almost like a puppy I had just kicked. I bit my lip. Why did I always make others suffer? Why couldn't I be a merry-go-lucky girl, with sunshine and happiness everywhere? Why did I have to make him suffer?

"_Nox..." my eyes found his "don't do this to me ever again."

I smiled. Maybe, maybe I had someone who looks out for me. Maybe I had someone who would care. Maybe, just maybe, I had the right to be happy tonight.

I didn't reply, didn't promise. When I break them it would only be more painful for him. So I hugged him. Tight, and with all I had. Because I wasn't alone anymore, and I had the right to be happy. Just for tonight, just for the moment he was with me, I deserved happiness.

His arms wrapped around me.

We stayed like that for so long I might have fallen asleep. All I remember was his strong hold, his scent. He smelled like a forest after the rain, like spices from foreign countries. He smelt nice, he smelt home. All I can remember was his arms, his breath on my neck when he hugged me, and the tears that found their way down my face. They rolled like diamonds down my cheeks, dropped onto his collarbone. I think he felt them, because next thing I knew, his thumb was wiping them away. Moving delicately across my face as if I was a broken butterfly, he kissed them away. All of them. And finally kissed me.

* * *

People describe kisses as fireworks, sparks, and lightning. To me it felt like home. It felt right. I didn't want to break the kiss and I didn't want to let Dom go. Be he had to, and far too soon, his warmth left me and my room. Maybe, I didn't have the right to be happy but he made me happy anyways. Or maybe he was just happiness. I didn't know, but I could feel the butterflies swirl in my stomach when the door closed. And the cold. The ever present, overwhelming cold his presence had left.

Cold like the bite of a razor blade.

* * *

Dom didn't come back. I don't know what he said to his mother about not coming anymore, but I didn't saw him. Sure he still gamed with me, but the chat window didn't pop open anymore. And I found myself thinking that it had all been a mistake. This kiss had been a spur of the moment and Dom actually never wanted to kiss me. Maybe he did, maybe he didn't. But what is the point in that? He had left me, just like the others. Maybe it was me, and some kind of repulsive aura exuded from my skin. But maybe, maybe, he just didn't know how to talk to me anymore. Maybe he was wondering in silence, thinking the same things as I did. Maybe I wasn't alone in my doubts.

Maybe I was.


	9. Chapter 8

I was discharged a week after the incident, on a Monday. I could now walk again, despite it hurting a bit and me losing my breath more quickly than before. The doctor said it would fade away with time but I would forever have a scar. I didn't really mind the scar. It would remind me not to play with fire anymore. I would keep away from a blade during a day or two, then start cutting again. Or maybe I would fall back into my bad habits straight away. Who knew?

* * *

One thing I was all but looking forward to now that I was back 'in the game' was school. People would have noticed my absence, and some would have spread rumours. Maybe Dom would have told them the reason why I wasn't in. Or maybe no one would have noticed because I didn't matter to them. I was a wallflower. More like shadow but they wouldn't see me. Or maybe they did.

But now he did not anymore, who cared?

* * *

Falling back into the routine of school, games and cutting was easier than I thought. To be honest, it was made easier by the people not noticing I was gone. But that night, a week after leaving the hospital, 14days after Dom left, when I opened my computer to game I couldn't help but feel a tug at my heart.

No one cared _anymore_.

Worse, I didn't either.

Maybe this was the end. The realisation that made brought me back to earth, the thought that stroked me like lightning. I didn't care. It was the end.

* * *

Loneliness.

Loneliness and the endless silence of the night.

No.

Sweet silence of the night. Clear like crystal. Beautiful like the last shades of dusk.

I would give anything to turn back Time. Everything. Maybe greed was a flaw, but I believe love was a weakness. It always was.

And bonding always had to hurt.

Not hurt like a knife parting your skin would. Neither like the tender bite of a cold razor on your flesh. But hurt like a violent hungry fire that ate away all your soul viciously. Like a demon from your worst nightmare. It hurt like a harpy was gnawing at your heart, shredding you alive, stomping on your very being.

It hurt in a bad way. In a pain filled way.

Why hurt so badly when the soothing caress of a silver friend could sever the last fragile palpitation of a broken soul? Why hurt this painfully when sweet oblivion could take it all away into an endless sleep and wash over you the veil of eternity?

Why live when you could die?

* * *

These thoughts must have been shared by those who were there before me, standing above the calm water of a late night's bridge. But the water was treacherous. Under the seemingly calm surface laid a network of rapid currents, hurling tides and shredding rocks. Under the seemingly calm water laid the key to eternal rest.

In my pain filled mind, the bridge had been the best place to go. It was calm, no one would be there anymore and from there I could see _his _house. Two week. It had been a full 14 days since I had been discharged and two weeks since silence had over taken us. Weeks I spent trying to convince myself I was alive. But I wasn't. I was dead. Dying.

Tonight, I could fly. Fly and be free.

It would be so easy. Just letting go of the railing and saying goodbye, like so many had done before me. My left foot left the concrete. The rough, painfully real tarmac hurt my bare sole with its cold bite.

In less than a second, I would be free.


	10. Chapter 9, The End

I was yanked back onto the ground by a strong hand. Arms wrapped around my middle despite the person being on the other side of the railing. A scent, like the forest after the rain, and spices from foreign countries hit my nose.

He had seen me. From his window. He had seen me and he had come.

He had _come_.

* * *

I was standing on the edge. And he was pulling me back.

* * *

My feet left the concrete as he sat me on the railing and proceeded to drag me away from the emptiness. We both toppled to the ground, but his arms never left me.

"_I – Nox – what" your words jammed together. So many things you wanted to tell me, so little that meant anything. I could feel your chest rise and fall, as if you had run all the way to get me. Maybe you had. I noticed you were barefooted, and that you hadn't even token the time to put a jacket on. A tired smile crossed my lips. I turned around to face you.

"_you are going to catch a cold." It was all I could say. The only words that would leave my throat without setting free my tears. You smiled, hugged me tighter and closed your eyes, your body relaxing.

"_I am never letting you go."

* * *

You did let me go, months later. She was pretty and nice. I on my side had found a nice guy, the one, in the person of Porter, and we had agreed to stay friends. No one ever knew about 'our' bridge, but now that Jacob died in a car crash and that I am standing on that bridge again, I wonder why you saved me that night.

Whatever your reason was, thank you Dominique Windsor.

Thank you for saving me.

However, tonight, I will be free.

Tonight, I will fly.


End file.
